Sink Storm

By Elizabeth Ribar

I used to think water wasn’t dangerous
that of all earth’s elements
he was the purest

Empathy when the veils were thin
a temple to house the inexplicable
depths of our psyche

(Water could fix me)

I boil eggs this morning
let them swim a little too long

(through my tears
when I lived as
mother whales
and feral sharks)

pouring his heat down the drain
the sink swallows him splendidly and burps
with impression a cacophonous wave

(leaking honey and milk
when I was a slutty mermaid
or went to hot yoga)

he eats my hands
showing me he is Poseidon
(more powerful than I ever imagined)


Elizabeth Ribar is a tabby cat collector and tea leaf reader wannabe. She lives in NYC and can be found tweeting @elizabethribar.